


Mother's Day

by vcg73



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 05:13:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14664021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vcg73/pseuds/vcg73
Summary: Mother's Day can be difficult for a newly formed family.





	Mother's Day

The first year, while he was in the florist’s shop buying a spray of his mother’s favorite pink and white roses to leave on her grave, he had bought a colorful bouquet of Gerber daisies too. He had no idea what kind of flowers Finn’s mom liked best, but something about the bright, cheerful cluster seemed to suit her. The flowers had practically smiled and waved at him from the collection of assorted bouquets in the big plastic vase in the corner, and he had known that they were meant for her. 

Although he was not quite sure it was appropriate to give someone else’s mom a gift on Mother’s Day, she and Dad had been getting awfully close lately. And even with the new stiffness between Dad and Finn, and the Hudson’s having moved out of the Hummel house as fast as they’d moved in following the Gaga week blowup, he wanted to do something nice for her. 

Carole had surprisingly seemed to bear him no ill-will over that incident. She had been, if anything, even kinder to him than before and he had found himself starting to love her. Whereas before, he had always thought of her as somewhat apart from himself. She was ‘Finn’s mom’, or increasingly ‘Dad’s girlfriend’, but not particularly his. Now he was starting to believe, and perhaps even hope, that one day maybe the four of them could be a real family.

He slipped into their house early that Sunday morning, using the key nobody had thought to ask for back, and left the bright flowers on the kitchen table with a simple note. ‘Happy Mother’s Day - love Kurt’.

She had not said anything, though Finn had asked at school how he managed to ‘ninja’ the bouquet into their house and teased him halfheartedly about making him look bad. Then a few days later, when the Hudson’s came over for one of the tense and uncomfortable Friday night dinners that Dad insisted on, and Kurt secretly resented having to share, Carole had given him a look that unexpectedly made his eyes smart and his throat tighten, and she had given him a long tight hug that suddenly made him miss his own mother almost past bearing. He had clung to her for a few seconds, then pushed away and gone to tend to dinner, needing a moment to regain his self-control. 

After that, things were still tense between him and Finn, and Finn and Dad, but there was a new ease between him and Carole that he could almost feel had caused a similar relaxation between her and Dad.

The second year, he bought her a vase full of ranunculus with a little card that simply said ‘I love you’. She and Dad had gotten married in the fall, and now that his exile from McKinley had finally ended, the ‘Hudmels’ as Finn had named them, were finally starting to feel like a real family. 

There was no need to sneak the bouquet to her this time, but finding himself too shy to just thrust it at her like it was no big deal, he left the flowers outside of her and Dad’s bedroom on his way out. It was very early, but he and his other bouquet of pink and white roses had an appointment to keep.

When he got downstairs, he was surprised to find Finn waiting for him, dressed and clearly ready to go with his puffy red vest zipped and his hands filled with a little bouquet of mixed tulips, crocus, and snapdragons. A similar collection waited on the kitchen table for Carole. Finn lifted the flowers a little, a hopeful look on his face. “This okay? I know you always get roses, so I got something else. They’re fun to play with.”

In demonstration he reached up and squeezed the bulb of a blue snapdragon to make the ‘jaws’ open and close. 

More touched by the gesture than he wanted to admit, Kurt nodded and grabbed his coat and keys. “She’ll love them. Thanks, Finn.”

The tall boy beamed and opened the door for him as they went out together to pay a visit to ‘their’ mom’s grave.

The third year, both brothers - as they truly thought of themselves now - made a similar pilgrimage to the cemetery. Finn had taken to going there from time to time, when he needed to think a problem through out loud without anyone thinking he was crazy or passing judgment on what he said. He found comfort in the silent yet somehow welcoming presence, and their spirits had become friends, of a sort. 

Kurt found him out one day when he went to visit her and found the little stone bench on the walkway next to her grave already occupied. He had spent a lot of time on that bench during the past few years, talking out problems, hopes, fears, griefs, and joys with the gentle presence he would never stop missing and loving. He did not believe in God or Heaven, but somehow he could not stop believing in her constant, loving presence, and he did not want her to feel neglected or replaced by his new step-mother, however much he loved her. 

To his own surprise, he was not jealous or resentful at finding Finn talking earnestly to his mother, whom he had somehow never quite realized was Finn’s own step-mother. He had simply hung back, out of earshot, until his brother’s hands stopped gesticulating, then went and sat beside him on the bench and told him a few of the things he remembered best about her. The way her eyes sparkled when she was excited. The surprisingly hearty belly-laugh that always startled people, coming from such a petite woman. The fact that she had loved grilled-cheese sandwiches almost as much as Finn did. Little things that he had never thought to share, but suddenly wanted to very much. And Finn had drunk in those details eagerly, wanting Kurt’s mom to be as real to him as the second hand memories of his dad were. 

Finn was more than willing to make his second Mother’s Day visit to that well kept grave, and Kurt was glad to have him. Finn gave him space to be alone with her for a while, then they both sat on the bench and just chatted for a while. Somehow the distance that always seemed to keep them apart over school hours, with different friends, different hobbies, and relationships with partners the other did not always like, was never present during moments like this. In this place, they were just brothers and nothing else mattered.

They had gone home to give Carole a colorful pair of bouquets, in person this time, followed by a day of pampering. They cleaned the house, fixed her breakfast and lunch, and then Finn gave her his mother a shoulder massage while Kurt manicured her nails. Both were very conscious of the fact that this might be the last Mother’s Day they would spend in Ohio, and they wanted her to know how much they appreciated all that she did for them. Burt watched the day’s proceedings with a pleased air, and a smile that he could not seem to wipe off his face. He, too, visited his late wife’s grave, then came back and finished the day with his own contribution of a nice family dinner out.

The fourth year was sadly different. Finn was gone and his mother was still cycling through grief too powerful to touch. 

As the second Sunday in May approached, Kurt wondered if it would be appropriate to send something home to her. He was afraid that it would cause her even greater pain to receive a gift from her stepson, and be reminded that the second more beloved giver would never be there to celebrate with her again. But on the other hand, if he failed to mark the day, would she feel even more bereft? Would she think he did not care for their family, and for her, anymore now that it was incomplete? 

He asked Blaine and got an unhelpful reassurance that she was fine and seemed to be coping okay. He asked his dad, who seemed just as lost as he felt, still caught up in grief of his own. He asked Rachel, who took the opportunity to turn Finn’s death into a soliloquy about herself and her suffering. She had liked Carole well enough, but seemed generally indifferent towards a woman who might have become her mother-in-law at one point. 

Realizing the decision was still entirely his, Kurt made up his mind. He managed to arrange his work schedule to give him a free Sunday, then borrowed a car from Chase - the only person he knew in New York City who owned his own vehicle and would not question Kurt’s sudden need for one - and drove all night to reach Lima by early Sunday morning. 

He went to his favorite florist, who always opened at 5am sharp year-round, and bought three bouquets. A cluster of pink and white roses. A mixed bouquet of Gerbers, tulips, and ranunculus (which Finn had liked to call ‘ridiculous’). And a big cluster of colorful snapdragons. He stopped at the cemetery and left the roses and snaps on two well-kept graves, speaking a few quiet words to each of their beloved residents, then took the third bouquet home to the pretty frame house in central Lima. He let himself inside, making barely a sound, and waited until he heard the stirring of someone getting up. 

Setting up a pot of the special chocolate blend coffee that Carole loved, he fixed her a tray with cereal and a pastry - she had never been a hot breakfast person - and added the daisy and tulip bouquet, prominently displayed in a pretty vase. When his dad came downstairs a few minutes later, he was startled and grateful to see Kurt, folding him into a tight embrace that lasted long enough for him to understand how much this gesture meant to his father.

They talked quietly for a while, catching up on things while not directly addressing the reason for Kurt’s presence. Finally his dad stood and clasped him by the shoulder, giving it a fond squeeze as he told him he’d just go pay the grave-yard a little visit, and that Carole should be awake soon.

Taking that as permission to intrude, he added a little milk to the cereal and coffee to her favorite mug and carried the tray carefully up the stairs. Carole’s door was cracked open a bit and she was awake, but she had not made a move to rise from her bed yet. She was staring absently towards the window, whose light curtains allowed rays of bright spring sunshine in to lighten the room.

There were tears on her cheeks, and the pained, far-away look in her brown eyes broke Kurt’s heart. For a moment, he paused, unsure once again if this had been a good idea. But as he hesitated, he shuffled a little in place and accidentally bumped the edge of his tray against the door. Carole looked up at the small scraping noise and then sat up, her eyes widening with surprise at finding Kurt where she had probably expected to see his father.

Finding nowhere to go but forward, Kurt pushed the door the rest of the way open and went to her, offering the tray a little shyly. “I know this probably isn’t what you wanted, but I thought maybe you might need it,” he said.

Carole sat higher against her pillow and accepted the tray. Her eyes filled again as she gently touched the bright petals. Her lips tilted upward in a sad smile when she squeezed the bulb of a pink snapdragon that Kurt had added to the display from Finn’s bouquet, leaving a ‘ridiculous’ from Carole’s bouquet to take its place. “He loved these,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, taking a seat on his dad’s side of the rumpled coverlet and taking her hand. “I left some for him.”

She nodded. “He’ll like that. Did you go see your mom?”

“Yeah. She’ll look after him,” he said, not quite knowing what made him say such a thing. 

Carole’s eyes lifted from the flowers and met his own, “And you’ll look after me?”

“If you want me to,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze.

She swallowed and nodded. She gave the tray a little push, and Kurt obeyed the silent request to move it. Rising, he set the unwanted breakfast on the laundry hamper to take down later and moved the vase to the window-sill, parting the curtains a bit so that the crystal vase and colorful petals could catch the light and be admired by their recipient.

For a moment, he was not sure what to do next. Then Carole held out a hand and he gratefully moved back to his former position. “How did you get here?” she asked, seeming bewildered by his presence.

“Drove,” he said. “I borrowed a car from a friend.”

“All night?”

He nodded. Carole settled back down into her pillow and he obeyed the silent squeeze of her hand and settled down onto his dad’s pillow facing her. “I didn’t want you to be alone this year.”

The painful fact that, in the truest sense, she would be alone every Mother’s Day from now on lay unspoken between them, but Carole seemed to take heart in his loving gesture. She pulled his hand closer and kissed the knuckles. “Thank you.”

They lay silently together for a while, drawing comfort as each realized that in spite of the great loss that lay between them, neither was truly alone with it. 

“You miss him too, don’t you?” she said softly. 

He nodded, unable to form words past the painful lump in his throat. Tears prickled at his eyes, and he suddenly felt incredibly tired. More than just the long hours he had gone without sleep, it was the weeks of comforting everyone else for their loss without really receiving any solace for his own. 

“He was your brother,” she said, sounding oddly revelatory as she looked once again toward the pretty flowers in the window. Then her eyes met his again and she said, “And you’re still my son.”

“I know I can’t ever replace him,” he choked, tears beginning to slide down, dripping off his nose and dampening the pillow beneath his cheek. “But I’ll do the best I can to fill the hole he left. I loved him, and I love you, Carole.”

Through the tears clouding her vision, she smiled at him. The first truly genuine smile she had been able to give since her son’s death. “I love you too, sweetheart.”

She leaned forward and kissed his damp cheek, and somehow that tender gesture opened the floodgates. He tried to hold them back. After all, he had come to offer comfort, not receive it, but those long weeks of pent-up grief would no longer be denied. Burying his face in the pillow, he attempted to stifle a sob, but the material smelled like Dad, and somehow that just made it worse, adding the long-held grief he always felt for his own absent mother on this day into the mix. 

Carole did not hesitate, sitting up and pulling him to her heart; holding him close and stroking the thick brown hair that was being dampened by her own tears as Kurt was finally given permission by someone who loved him to express a loss he had suffered as deeply as anyone else.

Except, perhaps, Finn’s mother.

As they clung to one another, each finding comfort in the other’s understanding, the edges of two broken and bleeding hearts began to mend. Carole’s arms tightened around him as the tears started to ebb away. The selfless actions of a boy who had suffered the irreplaceable loss of a mother, had unexpectedly eased the pain of a mother who had suffered the irreplaceable loss of a son.

Finally, Carole kissed him again. “Why don’t you go to your room and get some sleep? It’s not very late yet, and you must be exhausted. Do you have to go back to New York tonight?”

He nodded. “I have two classes in the afternoon that I can’t miss, and a shift at the diner tomorrow night. I traded with someone to get today.”

She smiled, realizing again what he had done for her. “Then you definitely need some sleep first. Go on, Kurt. Have a good nap, and when you wake up, we’ll go out somewhere and have a Mother’s Day lunch together. We can catch up a little, and make some new memories. And … maybe share a few old ones.”

“My time is yours,” he said simply, letting her know that he had no plans to spend any of these few precious hours with anyone else. Not even his fiance, whom he had not even told he was coming to Ohio, knowing that he would be expected to spend time with him if he did. Things were getting better between them, but somehow Kurt knew in his heart that Blaine, who had never suffered through the death of a loved one, would not understand his need to spend this day in quiet remembrance.

Returning the kiss, Kurt rose from the bed and retreated to his old bedroom, leaving Carole to collect her thoughts and begin her morning routine in peace. 

In the adjoining bathroom, he washed his face, sighing a little at the bleary-eyed young man in the mirror. His skin was splotchy and his hair was rumpled. His simple jeans and sweater combo was wrinkled and he was beginning to need a shave. But somehow, he decided as he peered into that reflection, he looked more at peace now. The constant tightness in his jaw had relaxed, and the little stress lines around his eyes that he had begun to worry might be a permanent fixture, had eased. 

Musing on these changes, Kurt trudged back to his bed. As tired as he felt, he hesitated to pull the covers back. He considered for a moment, then left the room again, crossing the hallway to Finn’s former quarters. The trophies and posters and other signs of everyday residence had been packed up and put away, leaving the space a little bare. But a few small signs still remained. The bed still held the beautiful old quilt that Finn’s grandmother had made, and won a blue ribbon for at the Ohio state fair, much to Finn’s second-hand pride. And the windows still had the ugly cowboy curtains that he’d kept since he was born. The room somehow still felt like Finn, in spite of the lack of possessions, and Kurt smiled as he kicked off his shoes and snuggled under that beloved quilt. 

He knew instinctively that Carole wouldn’t be angry if she found him here, and the touch of the thick blanket around his body felt almost like one of Finn’s bear hugs. 

Just on the edge of sleep, possibly from the bouquet that had been resting in his arms earlier, Kurt swore that he caught a whiff of his mother’s favorite rose perfume.

THE END


End file.
